John Wilcott had just about finished explaining why Dylan couldn't use the Wilcott home as a hideout. "So you see Dylan, you could have stayed here as long as my sons didn't know that their mother and I knew about them sleeping together for the last couple of years." John reddened, "I don't mean just sleeping, ah, er..."
"I know, I know what you mean, they're gay, but what's that got to do with me?" Dylan saved him from having to say gay, but John still winced on hearing the spoken word. "I've got millions of fans and I can take my pick of anyone, any guy if they're gay, would jump at the chance. I just don't pick; I'm more of a monk than some monks are. That young cop just got me at a weak moment. I'm normal for Christ's sake. He waved his dick at me and smiled. He was nervous and jerky, but who wouldn't be if he were trying to get lucky in a public shit house. He was even half-hard. What was I supposed to do? I just came back from a shoot in Podunk nowhere Utah, after four months, where I think even the fucking rocks are straight," his tale of self-denial was interrupted by the door chime.
"Who the hell?" John wondered out loud, "I'm sure I closed the gate. No one could possibly know you're here yet." He got up from his chair to answer the door. Dylan shrugged his ignorance and stayed sitting near living room glass wall that looked down on the lake in daylight. All he could see then were streamers of light on the water coming from the building built right on the water where he knew his attorney caught his sons going at it with a stranger, another kid.
John opened the door part way and peeked around it. "Yes?" He asked cautiously after seeing two teenagers and one adult the height of the shortest teen. He also saw the running lights outlining the shape of a stretch Mercedes limousine and the driver leaning against the side of the car watching them all.
Bucky grinned and held out his hand. "Hi neighbor, we meet face to face after talking on the phone off and on for a couple of years. I'm Bucky Trenton; this is my son Buck and his buddy Doug Henderson. Your son Paul, called to say he and Marc were in a bit of trouble with you, because you arrived home unexpectedly and found them doing some things that might be better done behind a locked door. He thought I might be able to talk it over with you." He put one arm over Buck's bare shoulders and the other in the middle of Doug's back, then just propelled them forward, pushing the door open and John Wilcott backward all at the same time.
When John thought about shaking Bucky's hand it was already on Doug's back. Bucky was careful not to allow John the opportunity to speak, by just continuing while he walked the boys into the living room, leaving John momentarily standing by himself in the foyer. "The reason Paul thought I might be able to help is that my son and Doug are very, very good friends themselves if you know what I mean. In fact they spent last night here and most of today, so I guess that makes them very, very good friends with both your boys too."
"What?" John managed weakly, with a glance at Dylan, who was sitting motionless where John left him a minute before.
Buck and Doug saw him as well. Both of them grinned sheepishly at him and abandoned the men to talk or shout or whatever. Bucky committed them with just a few words, and both felt relieved. Buck looked to Doug like he was about to jump into Dylan's lap, but he stopped himself in time and offered Dylan his hand. "I guess you heard that about us being very good friends. If you didn't, well, we are. I'm Buck Trenton," he said then tossed a thumb at Doug, "and this is Doug."
Dylan stood up and shook hands with both boys. "Friends huh? I should be so lucky. Its really nice to meet you guys." He looked up to see the men settle in chairs near the cold fireplace, just about as far away as they could get from the three boys. "I wish there was some place we could go to get away from them," he nodded to the men, "I shouldn't have come out here with John. If the fucking press finds out where I am, and they will, this place will be crawling with them." He sighed, "I really fucked up this time. That cop was so good looking too, damn him, he looked like he was our age. I'm usually so careful, but he was so tempting, and it's been such a long time."
Doug looked at the men, deep in conversation. "Come on with us, we'll introduce you to Paul and Marc." He giggled, "Just don't put the make on them. According to Paul, his dad's afraid you'll teach them new stuff we haven't tried." He led the way to the family room and out a door there.
Buck closed the door silently before he let out a war hoop. "Put the make on them? When they see you, they'll jump your beautiful movie star bones. Well, Paul won't, but Marc will in a heartbeat. If you don't want to play, you better be able to fight him off for real, none of that phony movie shit."
Dylan laughed, "I guess I'm a goner then. How much time should I give him to get off me?"
"Come on Bucky, give Marc a break. At first he'll attack you with his camera. You're lucky you're used to getting your picture taken." Doug said and opened a bunkhouse door, before he sang, "Surprise! You've got company!"
Dylan dutifully shook hands with the three guys as Doug introduced him, but his eyes stayed on Marc. Paul and Morgan backed away, and stood close enough so they touched each other somewhere each time one of them moved. Doug rested his arm over Buck's shoulders without thinking about it, and Buck fitted himself comfortably to Doug's side and leaned against him. Then they watched the sparks fly between Dylan and Marc. Dylan was the only one wearing jeans and a pull over shirt. He removed his shirt and dropped it on the floor without breaking eye contact with Marc longer than a second.
Buck looked up at Doug and whispered, "The fight has been canceled I guess." Then louder, "Well now we've got a real problem." Everyone looked at him in question. He giggled, "Three happy couples ready willing and able, and two fathers a hundred yards away." He snapped his fingers and looked very pleased with himself. "But I have a solution. Why don't we just disappear? As in have Willie drive us over to my place?" He looked at Paul. "In the morning your father will have cooled off or adjusted, whatever, and Dylan can stay." He received five grins in approval. "Or, if anyone can't stay here, they can just move in with me. I've got three fucking bedrooms including mine," he glanced at Doug, "just waiting to be christened."
"Buckminster my man," Paul grinned, "I'm really beginning to enjoy having you around even though you raped me. Come on let's go."
Dylan's eyes flicked down at Buck, then up at Paul. "HE RAPED YOU?" He asked in total surprise and disbelief.
Buck answered proudly wearing a phony cherubic expression. "I sure did, and I have plans for you too. As you can see I'm very cute and irresistible, Even to dirty old men like you two. How old are you anyway?"
"Nineteen, or I will be next month," Dylan frowned at Buck, "and that's not old," he added.
Paul motioned them all to silence when they got close to the house. They detoured to peek in the living room windows. Buck and John were sipping drinks and talking calmly sitting in the same chairs. "So far so good. Let's get out of here."
Willie jumped in surprise when he saw them running toward him. Buck assumed leadership of the group. "Hey Willie, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is Willie, also known as Wee Willie, because he isn't. Can you give us a quick lift home? Dad's having a drink. You can come back for him." Buck didn't wait for an answer, because it wasn't exactly a question. He opened the car door and motioned the others to climb in then he followed and slammed the door.
The gates opened when the car crossed the pressure switch then began closing again as soon as the rear bumper passed the gateposts. Three hundred yards down the road; Willie saw a car parked. The interior lights were on and the driver was holding up a map. He lowered the partition. "Hey Buck, this dude looks lost, should we help him?"
Everyone stretched his neck to look. Dylan answered. "Fuck no. Keep going. That guy is a reporter. Shit, that didn't take long."
"How do you know he's a reporter?" Buck asked.
"Because it's a rental car and he's lost. See the Budget bumper sticker? I'll bet he follows us straight to your house. Shit!" Dylan moaned.
Buck giggled. "Not to worry, I hope he does. We'll see how good our security system is won't we Willie?"
Willie was already talking to someone on a cell phone and nodded into the rear view mirror, while watching the rental car's lights move back on to the road. "You were right, here he comes," he said and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The big car quickly gained speed. Willie slowed just enough to turn into the Trenton driveway. The already open gates started to close again before half the length of the car was through them. The boys watched the headlights of the rental car shining impotently through the gate bars.
"I'll bite," Marc asked, "what happens now?"
"Now he'll be told he's trespassing if he's not on the public right-of-way and asked to leave. If he doesn't, he'll get arrested and his car will be towed," Willie explained. "The local cops have already been called," he added.
Buck giggled. "My dad contributes to the Chief's retirement fund, informally of course, and everyone else on the force gets a special Christmas present. Believe me, we get more service from the cops than we need, up until now."
The boys piled out of the limo in front of Trenton Hall, then stopped dead in their tracks, even Buck, because it was the first time he'd seen the house at night with all the exterior lights turned on. The whole building glittered, including the surrounding landscape still under construction.
Dylan whistled in appreciation. "What is this place? It looks like a movie set. Is this your home? Who are you anyway?" He asked Buck. "I make about thirty million a picture now, and I couldn't afford this joint."
Buck shrugged and looked around. "To tell you the truth, I'm impressed too. I'll bet Mom made a millionaire out of the electrician getting what she wanted out here."
"Haven't you ever heard of Buckminster Trenton the Third?" Marc asked, then stabbed Buck in the chest with a finger. "This little prick is the Fourth."
Buck sighed and shook his head. "Didn't I tell you that I'm not a little prick? I'm a big pick," he announced proudly grabbing himself through the material of his shorts, then grabbed Doug, who winced and bent over, "and so is my very, very good friend Douggie," he mimicked his father perfectly. "You guys are the little pricks in this club." Buck paused and pointedly stared at Dylan's crotch then batted his eyes at him coyly. "Of course we don't know about you yet, but from the second you saw Marc, things are looking pretty good down there so far."
Doug pried Buck's fingers loose. "Goddamnit Buck you don't have to break it. Come on let's go see some movie star skin. We sure don't see much in your damn movies. Why is that anyway? Not even an ass cheek in your love scenes."
Dylan frowned. "You won't either, until I can get a part playing my own age. I think I'm going to have trouble making the transition from kid to adult as long as I look like a kid. Kids only make out on screen, and maybe cop a feel, but anything more serious is just implied."
Buck punched the combination to unlock his apartment door. "When we saw you on the news tonight, Doug said you're so pretty, you should have been a girl."
"Buck! Jesus H. Christ, you have one fucking big mouth." Doug said and turned red. He looked at Dylan, "Sorry about that."
Dylan smiled and shrugged. "No problem, I've heard that before. I know what I look like. Maybe that's why I like what I like in bed," he looked at Marc shyly, then added, "And as you'll see anyway, sooner or later, I'm not so well hung, so we may as well get show and tell out of the way. What you see is what you get." He unsnapped his jeans. The zipper opened when he pushed them down his legs. He pried his gym shoes off while he watched the other boys rush to catch up by dropping their shorts.
Marc hesitantly reached down to hold Dylan's four- inch erection, then kissed him lightly. "It works okay doesn't it?" He asked looking Dylan in the eyes.
"Yeah, it works. It works too well, that's how I got in trouble. You better let go now." Dylan whispered.
"Yeah let him go for now." Buck ordered. "We need to talk about this before we get too carried away. You said the cop you groped looked real young. Did he arrest you?"
Dylan shook his head and sat down on the sofa with Marc. "Nope. There were three or four others jammed in a shitter stall behind us. They just came boiling out of there and they did it. The one at the urinal just kind of disappeared," Dylan thought for a second. "Not disappeared, I saw him leave the restroom. He went back into the store I guess. I remember seeing his back in the doorway."
"What store?" Paul asked.
"Lord and Taylor. I was just out wandering around, killing time. It's nice to be alone once in a while, you know, not be recognized. I was wearing a cap and sunglasses and I'm just careful to never really look at anyone, like eye contact, if I do that's when I see that jerky smile then the questions, like, Aren't you Dylan Brockway? Or, I know you from somewhere, that's when I get the hell out of Dodge."
Buck grinned, "Maybe the guy you groped wasn't a cop. Maybe he was just a kid the cops were using as bait. We should find out." He pulled away from Doug where they were sitting on the floor and pushed Dylan and Marc over from where they sat behind his keyboard. The picture on the plasma screen was still Buck's empty boat bed in his bedroom.
"What is that anyway?" Dylan asked.
Doug giggled, "Don't ask. That's Buck's bed, in there, his bedroom. We were just playing around," he frowned at Paul, "until we were interrupted by the pussy neighbor."
Buck's fingers flew between the keyboard and mouse until a list of names appeared on the screen. Dylan rested his chin on Buck's shoulder watching his hands and the screen. "What are you doing?"
Buck smiled and explained. "I just accessed my dad's address book. I need a home phone number." He reached for a portable phone stuffed in the sofa. He giggled while he dialed and looked at the others. "Stay silent, or this won't work."
Buck cleared his throat and stood up. "Hello George, this is Buck Trenton. Sorry to bother you on a holiday, a friend of my son's got in some trouble late this afternoon and we need to find out what we can to get him out of it." Buck carefully held his voice low, imitating his father. "The kid's name is Dylan Brockway." He listened for a moment before he continued, "Yeah. That's the one. You saw it on the news? Good, then I don't have to fill you in. I'd like a copy of the arrest report. The kid says the decoy was too young to be a cop. I want to find out about that. Everything, a complete bio eventually, but name address, phone number, and of course his age for now."
Buck listened, "No, the kid said he wasn't one of the arresting officers. Yes, that is strange. No George do not attach it to an email, you know I don't want shit like that on my computer, fax it as usual." Buck looked at his watch. "No, not tomorrow, tonight would be better. In say half an hour? I've got one scared little movie star on my hands out here and I want to reassure him that I'm doing what I can. Thanks George, I won't forget this special effort. Good night George." Buck disconnected, then tossed the phone to Dylan and giggled at five bug eyed open mouth stares.
"Can that guy get that information?" Dylan asked.
"Of course. George is the CEO of one of the largest private detective agencies on the East Coast."
"But so fast? You were making like you were your father we know, but can he order him around like that?" Marc asked shaking his head.
Buck broke into a belly laugh as he grabbed Dylan's hand and yanked him to his feet. "He can if he owns the agency. Come on, we'll go wait for the fax in Dad's study, also known as the war room, depending on what he's doing." He saw Paul and Morgan kiss, then start to stretch out on the floor. "Oh no you don't, you two, no one gets laid if I can't get laid. Lets all go wait for the fax. It won't take long, I think George can get into the NYPD computer somehow, he has a long reach and he's used to getting sudden emergency requests."
Twenty minutes later the fax machine chimed, after Buck gave up trying to keep Paul and Morgan, or Dylan and Marc separated, and even Doug from clamping a lip lock on his cock. The machine started belching printed sheets of paper. Buck ended his head job by just pulling away from Doug suddenly, leaving him on his knees sucking air. Buck grabbed each sheet before it fell into the tray then scanned it before he shook his head, no.
Doug rested his chin on Buck's shoulder and tried to read the papers with him, but was barely able to focus on the first words before Buck was finished. Doug gave up and rocked his head to the side to watch Buck's eyes. "How the fuck are you reading them so fast?" He demanded.
Buck giggled and read another sheet before he turned his head and kissed Doug's nose. "That's a secret," he whispered, "I have a photographic memory, but please don't tell the guys, they'll think I'm weird."
"We know you are already, there's no thinking required," Paul chuckled and rested his chin on the top of Buck's head.
"Fuck you, you big lug," Buck retorted, "I didn't know you were standing so close." He blinked suddenly and grinned, holding the newest sheet up and pawing the others until he found one he was looking for. "This is the arrest report, it lists a Peter Anderson as the victim."
"Victim my ass!" Dylan shouted and pushed Marc off his body. He jumped up and snatched the copy from Buck's hand. "Sonofabitch, I'm fucked, he was only sixteen. I'll be found guilty of molesting a fucking minor. Oh no, no, no." He moaned, almost in tears. "I was so certain he was a young looking cop. The one that cuffed me even congratulated the prick for such a righteous bust, just before he disappeared."
Buck poked Dylan in the chest to get his attention and waved a second piece of paper in front of his eyes. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Wait, look at this before you kill yourself, will you? It's a file, a security check and a picture of this Peter dick head. He isn't a cop because he's too young obviously, but it says here that he is an officer cadet in something called the Police Auxiliary, whatever the fuck that is."
"Maybe the police Boy Scouts or something?" Paul suggested, "I never heard of anything like that, but New York is a big city."
"It doesn't matter if he was a Girl Scout, I'm still fucked."
Buck whistled shrilly and everyone looked at him. "Are you guys dense, or what?" He asked. "Don't you see, they used him as a decoy, knowing that he was a minor, then listed him as a victim because he is a minor. What they did has to be illegal because it's too dangerous. I think the vice squad just fucked themselves."
Tentative smiles turned into grins, then that changed to cheering as the importance of what Buck told them sunk in. Dylan got little Buck in a bear hug, lifted him off the floor and danced around the room with him. "I owe you one for this Buck. You name it, anything at all, and it's yours," he told Buck, then kissed him deeply before Buck could answer.
Buck pulled back from Dylan. "Can I watch you making a movie? I'd like that."
"We need to give all this to my father," Marc told the room as he sifted through the fax sheets. "Hey, you know this guy is really good looking, I think. It's hard to tell from this shitty black and white fax."
Dylan broke off his thank you kiss. "If he wasn't, I wouldn't be in this fucking mess. Even desperate, I still have my standards," he said with a giggle.
"If he was like us and went to Oaks, he'd be the ideal fourth roommate for us this fall."
"Oaks?" Dylan asked.
"Our school, Doug and I go there now and Marc is transferring so we can all room together." Buck explained.
"Oh, neat. Well one out of two isn't bad. I think he's gay. He was nervous and scared standing there at that urinal, but he was still half hard, and his look sure said he wanted to play, even though he knew half the vice squad was jammed into the shitter behind us. Would a straight guy be excited like that?" Dylan wondered.
Buck and Doug looked at the picture. "What do you think Doug?" Buck asked.
"Yeah he'd do, but it says here that he goes to regular high school. Too bad, now that you mention it, we might have trouble finding a fourth guy. I can't think of anyone else like us, except for a couple of obvious swishy types. If we got one of those," Doug shuddered, "I don't think I could put up with all that prancing and squealing shit they do."
Buck agreed, then added, "Plus it would be instant guilt by association." He smiled and snapped his fingers. "Tuesday, let's go look this guy up. We could just watch his house, then when he comes out we'll follow him and bump into him accidentally on purpose."
"So what? He still doesn't go to the Oaks, and probably never heard of the place and couldn't afford it anyway." Marc frowned at Buck. "Tell me you aren't planning to hook up with him just because he's a good looking stud are you? If any of us get into the habit of one nighters, we put the rest of the group at risk. I for one don't like rubbers, and, well there's other stuff I wouldn't do anymore either." Marc looked disappointed. "But if you want to, go ahead. We could still be friends and roommates I guess."
"Why you big dumbass," Buck giggled, "I wasn't thinking of that and I wouldn't just fuck him and forget him, nope, no one nighters for me ever. I was thinking you and I might make friends with him and see if he really is gay, like Dylan thinks. If he is, we could invite him here and then bang him after we find out if he'd be interested in a scholarship to Oaks, all expenses paid."
"Yeah, right. Get real Buck, you know there aren't any scholarships."
"There could be one, if he wants it. Dad could set up a foundation and I could fund it, no sweat, as long as I'm on the selection committee and you if you want to. It would be easy and we'd be honest about it at least to this guy Peter. It would just be secret from the rest of the world, including the school." Buck thought for a second, the added, "Fuck the school, they wouldn't care as long as they got the tuition. There's always a few empty rooms so they aren't full."
"You'd lay out that much just so we have the right roommate?" Marc asked dubiously.
"Sure, I know I have to get philanthropic some time, I may as well start now."
"Remember I can't go, I have to work, but I think it's a good idea. Where else are we going to find the right guy?" Doug shrugged. "If he agrees I hope he's smart, sex if fine but we don't need a dumb rock as a roommate. I'd almost rather have a smart swish, except for the advertising."
"Yeah, right, I forgot about that. George might have his transcript by Tuesday. Marc and I can go and Morgan can drive us." Buck looked hopeful at Morgan, "Will you?"
"Sure if it's okay with your father."
Dylan asked if he could go with them so he could get his things from the hotel and check out. "That way I'll be out of sight at first, and then if he's with you when you pick me up, if he wants to, we might be able to finish what I started since he's not really a cop," he grinned suddenly, "and he sure was hot."
"Who's hot?" Bucky asked from the doorway. John Wilcott stood behind him looking over the top of his head, frowning and bug eyed. Bucky was grinning at his son. "How long do you think it will take you to think up a plausible explanation for being in my study?" He asked Buck, who still held a handful of fax sheets.
"Would you believe that I was just giving the guys a grand tour of this dump?" Buck countered wearing a grin that matched his father's, as the rest of the guys scurried to get behind him, seeking his protection, oblivious to the fact that they were naked.
Doug pushed Buck forward with a loud urgent whisper, "Can the bullshit, show him the fax."
"Oh, yeah," Buck giggled, and handed his father the papers. "Take a look at this before you get hyper. No one touched anything except the fax machine," he added, more to reassure the guys than his father.
Buck glanced at each sheet then passed it to John. "The guy I honked was a minor. He's a police cadet, I guess that means a wannabe, and the cops put him up to it," Dylan capsulated the information. "That's illegal isn't it?" He asked John hopefully.
"It certainly is, and it appears they're covering their asses by putting the kid down as a victim," John answered with a growing smile. He frowned and looked up from the last sheet. "Where the hell did you get this information? Some of this, like the minor's identity is confidential. I can get it, because he'd have to testify, but not as quickly as you did."
Bucky held up his hand quickly to stop Buck from answering the question. "Wait, I think I need to be one of your clients before my son answers. How much to retain you for a couple of minutes?" He asked, looking up at John, wearing a huge grin.
John smiled back and nodded. "I think a dollar would cover it," he answered, laughed, then explained to the boys about attorney-client confidentiality.
Bucky searched his pockets futilely before he looked at Buck, "Could I borrow a dollar?"
"Jeeze Dad, you never have any money even wearing clothes." Buck giggled and slapped his bare thighs and ass.
"How about if I bill you? I think a handshake will do for now." John laughed and offered his hand.
Bucky took the proffered hand then told Buck to answer John's question. Buck cleared his throat, put an imaginary phone to his head and started repeating the conversation he'd had with George, again imitating his father perfectly. When John still looked puzzled Bucky finished the explanation then frowned at Buck.
"Damnit Buck I've told you to stop doing that, at least without letting me know before you do it," he scolded.
Buck shrugged. "Sorry Dad, but you weren't available for a consultation," he grinned, "and besides, you always told me to cut through the bullshit to get a project done, so that's what I did. It was good advise, look at the results already. All George has left to do is send us a biography on this guy Peter, particularly his transcripts."
"His transcripts? Why do you want to see those? They have no bearing on this mess."
Buck put on his most angelic face, marred by a tiny devilish smile. "We like his looks, and if he's smart enough, we want him as our fourth roommate at school." Before Bucky could ask any questions, Buck rushed on, "Oh, that's something you can do for us. There are a few rooms in the old dorm, big ones, with bathrooms that sleep four guys. The school usually puts newbes in them, but we need you to use your juice on the board to get us one of them so we can room together."
Bucky's eyebrow shot up. "You and Doug are two, who's the third guy? You never mentioned, ah, liking anyone but Doug at school."
Buck tossed his thumb over his shoulder. "Marc, who else? He's going to transfer to Oaks and..."
John exploded, as Marc ducked behind Paul trying to hide. "HE IS? You are? When exactly were you planning to tell me about this?"
Marc stood up slowly until his eyes looked cautiously over one of his brother's shoulders. "The idea popped up kind of suddenly Dad, between Doug and I, then we met up with Buck, so we needed a bigger room, and you weren't available for consultation either. I was going to ask you about that as soon as you got home, I really was. Can I? Please?" He begged, then suddenly switched topics. "Oh, something else, Doug's a swimmer and he's going to try out for the Olympics too, so I kind of need an underwater housing for a camera. I'm missing some great shots of him from the side and below. A good one isn't really expensive," he added lamely.
"As compared to what?" John asked dubiously.
Paul giggled suddenly and moved to the side, leaving Marc exposed. "As compared to his darkroom probably."
Marc frowned at his brother. "Thanks for the help asshole."
"You're welcome, anytime." Paul laughed at his father's expression. "After you get him this cheap underwater thing, he'll discover he needs a new camera to fit in it. Of course that won't be expensive either as compared to his Hasselblatt."
Marc grinned sheepishly. "You know now you really aren't being helpful." He lowered his voice to a whisper through the side of his mouth, "Shut the fuck up!"
"I'll think about your equipment problem. Let's talk about you transferring." John's gaze swept the boys quickly, including his two sons. He could easily picture them individually as models for a six-month teenage nude `hunk' calendar. He was resigned to the expense of buying Marc the new equipment, but he was going to make him pay for it with the truth. "Why do you want to transfer?"
Marc sighed and looked at his new friends and his brother. "Well Paul is off to college, and I sort of need a new roommate, and well, I don't know of any guy in my class or the rest of the school for that matter, that I'd be good enough friends with to room with, well, you know." He let his voice trail off to silence.
"No, I don't know. Explain further please."
Marc face turned scarlet. "What I meant was, kind of in bed, you know, sex, good enough friends with to have sex with." Marc took a deep breath, "Because we're all, all of us are gay, that's why. There I said it. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He asked with a trace of defiance.
Paul spoke up, "What the dildo is trying to say is that since I'm not going to be around during the school year, he was probably going to go out looking for action on his own, any action, and that isn't safe. We talked about this and we kind of agreed that is all of us except Dylan, that we should sort of keep it among ourselves. You know, a small tight knit group, a little club like. Like Morgan and I, we're going to room together this year." Paul put a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "This is Morgan by the way, he's working for Bucky this summer. He's pre-law too, so we can study together and we're compatible in other ways," Paul hesitated, "but I guess you saw that."
"What the clumsy oaf is trying to say," Marc said to get in some name calling and re-join in the explanation, "is that all of us have normal teenage urges and we just can't turn them off when we feel like it now that we've started, well, what we've started."
John looked at Paul, "So you're both gay, what about you, your career as a gymnast, if this gets out?"
"Come on Dad, wake up and smell the roses. Do you want me to list all the guys who have won metals, are Olympic champions, the best in the world, who are gay? Every meet I go to, I get special looks and smiles all the time from guys, and just about every one of those guys is tough competition. Being great at a sport has nothing to do with being gay. It may be that as a group we're better because we have to be. I see it as a defense."
Doug nodded and spoke up. "Excuse me Sir, but I swim and there are just as many gays on every swim team, and I think sometimes half the mob in the stands are gay too. They come to dream or drool because you can't hide much in a speed suit. Nothing happens though ever. At a meet, I concentrate on winning, nothing more, and nothing less."
Dylan spoke up. "Hey, I know you guys don't know me at all and I didn't know about your little exclusive club until just now. I'd like to join if you'll let me. I'm scared shitless of one night stands, but I'm too well known so that's how I get my jollies, but only when I get so tired of using my fist that I want to kill myself. For someone like me, the only other alternative is to hire someone, and I'll just never be that desperate. He paused to look at his feet for a moment, then added in a soft voice. "There's another reason too. You guys treat me like a regular guy, like a friend. I realized tonight that I've been working so long, I can't remember when I started, and I actually don't have a private life. I don't even have friends from school because I never went, I always had tutors on the set."
Buck separated from Doug's minuscule touches and went to Dylan where he was standing slightly apart from the rest of them and took his hand. First, he tugged him gently, and when Dylan tried to shake him off, Buck grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled him off balance, toward the group. Dylan bumped into Marc and Paul. Marc stopped him from backing away by putting an arm around his waist until his hand stroked the front of Dylan's hip. "There. Now you're one of us officially," Buck giggled, "you dope, you always were." His busy mind switched gears. "Hey, when do you start your next picture? Can you stay here and hang with us for a while."
"We start rehearsals on Thursday. That's why I'm in New York. All the location stuff will be around town over the summer, then we'll move to LA to finish up on the interior sets. Why, do you really want to come in and watch? You can, I'll even get you chairs with your names on them, but its kind of boring." Dylan snapped his fingers. "If you want, I can get you all bit parts, it's another stupid high school romance kid flick." Dylan was nodding, willing them all to agree.
Buck was delighted with the thought of watching the movie being filmed so soon after asking but that wasn't the reason he asked. "New York? That's even better, why don't you stay here for as long as you're in New York? If you get another hotel, you'll still have to sneak around. Out here you can do as you please and hang out with us for the whole summer."
"Boy I'd like to, but the drive would be a killer. We work long hours, sometimes nights, and on locations like a city, every weekend because of the crowds. And don't forget the fucking press, they'll find out I'm staying here. I'm used to them, but you'll have to use a bulldozer to get in and out of your gate."
Bucky laughed. "No we won't, or you either. I have a helicopter. When I drove into the city," he glanced at Doug and grinned, "before Henderson started tearing up the interstate, it took a about an hour, but it was a good time to get a lot of work done. Suddenly it took all morning, so now I fly and land on top of my building and it only takes fifteen minutes. It takes a lot longer to get anywhere after you land. You're more than welcome to stay here if you want. You can think of this as home whenever you're in the area." Bucky looked as hopeful as the boys did.
"Holy shit Mr. Trenton, you really mean it? I'll lease a chopper though, I'll make the production company pay for it." Dylan giggled, then frowned, "Speaking of them John, how long do you think it will take to get all this cleared up? Right now I'm not sure I have a picture to start. Producers aren't fond of this kind of publicity."
"The first thing Tuesday morning, I'll be in touch with the prosecutor's office. When they see that this kid was a plant, not a victim I think they'll drop the charges just before they start investigating the vice squad in that precinct. I'll figure out a nice plausible story and let you and your publicist know what it is so everyone says the same thing."
"Can Morgan drive us in on Tuesday Dad?" Buck wanted to know.
"Nope, sorry he isn't really trained to protect you, but he can fly in with you. I'll send Willie and Joe along and they can get a limo from the pool to drive you wherever you want to go." Bucky looked at Dylan. "If you have any problems with anyone, they'll be happy to run interference for you, because they are trained." He giggled as he held his fists together in front of them then made a snapping stick sound as he twisted them apart.
"Well," Buck said and drew out a yawn for thirty seconds. "I'm really ready for bed." He grinned at John. "Can Paul and Marc stay over here tonight? It's way past their bedtime. They'll be falling asleep in the car, then you'll have to carry them in the house." Buck looked both innocent and authentically hopeful.
John smiled and nodded. "I guess so, but only because that will save my back. They're getting too big to carry."
Dylan giggled at Buck's performance. "Hey that was good. Shit you'll get an Academy Award before I do."
Buck swung around as if he saw his friends for the first time. "And just are you guys doing in my father's study?" He asked angrily. "I've told you and told you, this room is off limits! Get out, all of you. Go straight to your rooms and stay there until breakfast!" He grinned suddenly. "How was that?" he asked Dylan.
Dylan grinned and moaned, "Oh no, I think I've created a monster."
Paul and Doug grabbed Buck, picked him up and carried him into the hallway. "I'll be sure to lock the door this time Bucky. He won't escape again." Doug said as they passed the men. "Better yet, which way to the meat grinder?" He asked.
"They're all jealous because I'm a star!" Buck screamed before he started laughing to hard.